


Can't Help Falling In Love

by clownsxclowns



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Arthur Is A Soft Boi And Cares So Much About You, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Jazz - Freeform, Kissing, Romance, Slow Dancing, Supportive Arthur, hand holding, wholesome content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 16:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clownsxclowns/pseuds/clownsxclowns
Summary: Arthur calms you down during a panic attack, (headcanons and one-shot).Was originally written for one of my friends as a gift, however I extend it to anyone else who's having a bad day, or anxiety struggles right now! :)





	Can't Help Falling In Love

Anxiety Headcanons:   
\- Incredibly understanding - he’s well acquainted with anxiety and just how bad it can be. So, he knows or at least likes to think he knows, how to help.   
\- While he had to endure a lot of it alone, he doesn’t want you to suffer the same fate - that’s literally the last thing he wants.   
\- His favourite thing to do is try and distract you, to try and get you to focus on your surroundings, as opposed to the actual symptoms themselves; uses the 5-4-3-2-1 technique.   
\- Will tell you to take deep breaths as he seats you somewhere comfortable, either the couch or the bed.   
\- If you weren’t home, he’d promptly pull you aside and pull you into him, whispering soothing things into your ear; a gentle hand would reach up and rest against the back of your head as he did so.   
\- Whether you were having panic attacks, negative thoughts/spirals, or perhaps, the whole shabang, he’d tell you how much he loved you and how proud he was of you for coming as far as you had.   
\- He’s a sap, meaning he’d downright compliment and praise you until his face turned blue (lol). He wouldn’t let you doubt yourself, and if you didn’t believe his reassurances, he would 100% make it his mission to prove it.   
\- Lots and lots of kisses. Hands, cheeks, your forehead - you name it.   
\- Arthur is BIG on affection. He really loves hugs, and he feels as though a really long one could solve any problem.   
\- Literally hates seeing you sad and stressed, so he’ll tell you one of his jokes from his journal. Anything to distract you.   
\- Sometimes he does panic when you have a particularly bad attack. It isn’t because he’s overwhelmed, it’s more so him freaking out about how his tactics aren’t working - about how he’s unable to assist. He’d pretty much feel helpless. Like stated earlier, he really hates seeing you so distressed.   
\- Regardless, he sticks by you for however long you need. He wouldn’t dream of leaving you in the middle of an attack.   
\- One of his favourite things to do when he sees you stressing is to play with your hair or trace soothing patterns into your skin.   
\- After the attack - HE WILL DANCE WITH YOU.   
\- SORRY, THIS IS _**NOT**_ OPTIONAL.   
\- This bad boi will pull you into his arms and start swaying with you to some funky jazz tunes whether you like it or not.   
\- Will not stop until he’s seen you laugh, or, at the very least, smile. 

////

Today had definitely not been your day. While you had been on edge for most of it, feeling the sinister itch of anxiety in the back of your mind, you tried your hardest to work through it; to get on with your day. Some part of you, faded along with the negative thoughts - a gut feeling - knew, however. Knew that the crucial question wasn’t _**if**_ you were going to have a panic attack - it was _**when**_. In all cases, it felt inevitable. 

Rain pelted the window - Gotham’s signature song as you found yourself alone in Arthur’s apartment. He’d left a little bit ago, promising to only be a moment as he mumbled something about groceries. 

In the space of what had probably been an hour since Arthur’s departure, your theory had been correct. Like the opportunistic beast it was, your anxiety had decided it was the perfect time to flare up. The telltale signs - ragged breathing, the hammering of your heart which matched the booming of thunder, upon the multitudinous concoction of other symptoms created the perfect storm; much like the one outside. 

As the seconds passed and the poor weather continued its total pandemonium, your neurotic state worsened. The last straw was when your chest started to close up, constricting as if you had been sat on; about to be crushed. Familiar were the knots in your stomach, twisting and turning. 

In one cataclysmically exhausting whirlwind of thoughts, one that virtually took all your energy to keep at bay, you felt the jitters in your leg and the compulsive fidgeting which followed behind, manifest. In the dim lighting of the room, you curled up into the sofa’s side, trying to remember what you had been taught for times precisely like these. How you were meant to breathe, use your logic, even if you were, for the most part, stripped of it. To try and focus on other things, repeat the mantras that you had once found calming. You conjured the reassuring voice of your lover, remembering Arthur’s soothing words and how he worked you through prior attacks. 

Yet still, you couldn’t breathe.

Perhaps luck had been shining down on you in that moment. You certainly felt so when you heard ruckus behind the front door. The key scraped against the lock, a recurring phenomenon which was then followed by a soft curse, leading to Arthur’s eventual success as he stumbled inside. 

“I’m ba-” 

Arthur froze when he saw your cowering form. 

He pushed the door closed with his foot, knowing immediately what was happening and abruptly dropped the bag of groceries onto the floor with a thud. Without stopping, he hurried over. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice sweetly requested as a hand gently moved your face to look down at him. 

In his crouched position his leg was tucked underneath him while his other rested against the couch’s foundations. Arthur’s thumb started to rub soothing circles into your flesh once his hands fell to yours, immediately snapping to your action plan. 

“Tell me five things you can see.”

Nodding, you obeyed. The mere euphony of his utterance already had you calming, a tender warmth which began to thaw out anxiety’s glaciers. After your eyes darted across the room, you listed the first things you could see. 

“I-I” You swallowed as you tried to get a grapple on your wobbling vocals, “I see the curtains.”

“Tell me about them.”

“They’re hideous,” You replied, prompting a laugh from your lover. The delicate creases around his eyes - laughter lines - had been enough to momentarily halt your disquietude, a short-lived delight replacing it. 

“What else?”

“An-and I see Murray.”

You moved to point towards the tv in front of you. Arthur moved aside when your wobbly arm extended. A small smile graced his features when he drank in the man dancing along to the intro, perfectly in time with the sporadic notes of the live band. 

No matter how much he loved the show however, he loved you more. This was evident in the way he quickly turned back to you, a silent signal to continue; to reduce your apprehensive state. While the twitching of your fingers was yet to pause, their ache to squirm overbearing, you were sure Arthur picked up on the way your breathing had started to regulate.

“Um, the” your eyes darted to the floor, your toes wiggling against the fluffy feeling of the synthetic fibres, “the carpet…”

Moving your foot slightly, you watched as the action revealed a sinister blob. You weren’t entirely sure how it got there, even Arthur was confused when you had casually brought it up. Arthur must’ve followed your gaze because you both spoke at the same time. 

“And its stupid stain-”

“The stain.” 

You breathed through your nostrils in a subtle amusement as his lips upturned; relishing in fact he knew you so well. You hadn’t been kind to that rug, not even in its debut, and you knew he felt as though he was more likely to witness hell freeze over before he’d witness you display a shred of warmth towards the piece. 

Once more, your eyes bounced around the room to find another object. Placed delicately against the closed window, you noticed small green stems protruding from a red brick coloured pot. 

“The plant we’ve somehow managed to keep alive.” 

An arrangement of white rings wrapped around each extension, the mere sight of the potted plant brought on a deep fondness - reminiscence with a tone of yellow; of sunshine and fresh air. You and Arthur had somehow ended up buying a zebra succulent. It was an impulsive decision, one that had almost led to its unfortunate death an embarrassing number of times. 

From overwatering to all too friendly bursts of wind threatening to topple the plant, to forgetting to water it entirely, the succulent that had been named ‘Victory’ for its unlikely survival. Most certainly a hero to all succulents out there, the flora continued to trudge on, despite life having tested it. In some strange way, the plant had binded the ends of your relationship together, strengthening it with a flame - prevented it fraying. 

“Victory…” Arthur furrowed his brows, “Tory.” 

“Tory,” you repeated, smiling. 

“One more left,” he squeezed your hand. 

Your eyes remained on him, flickering over his dishevelled appearance. You had only managed to notice his state then, with the heavy burden of worry elevated. His hair was wet, soaking really, and his clothes were just as much. It was a miracle he wasn’t shivering. 

“You’re all wet.” 

His brows upturned at your laughter, his own amusement following behind. He mumbled something about managing to keep undercover for the most part, and the imagery of him trying to do so was something you found adorably amusing. 

You had somehow forgotten about the turbulence of the weather, and when you were so rudely reminded with a clap, you jumped. It had caught you off guard, and the sound was so loud it shook the window frame. Whether that was just the shitty Gotham apartment you found yourself in, or if it had hit the building you weren’t sure. 

Arthur perked up when he saw you jump at the thunder, his lips instinctively pressing against the soft skin of your hand, leaving a warm tingle. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well.” 

“Now tell me, what can you touch?” 

“Your hands…” you gave them a quick squeeze before pulling away, his arms moving to rest against his knee while yours moved to your sides. 

“The couch.” 

Arthur nodded at your words, his bright blue eyes reflecting encouragement. 

“My hair,” you said, twirling a strand with your trembling hands.

“Your hair” you laughed again when they dove into his wet locks. Arthur scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes with a smile. Then, he shook his head against your hand. The goofy action sprayed gentle droplets of water on your skin, making you giggle in surprise. 

His hands interlocked with yours once more. 

“What can you hear?”

“Rain…cars.” 

“Gotham never sleeps,” Arthur quipped. 

By then, your breathing had completely righted itself, a lot of your symptoms had dissipated, and you were starting to find yourself more grounded in the moment. Thoughts no longer raced. Hot and cold flushes no longer gripped you. You had started to feel some semblance of control. 

“Smell?”

“Vanilla - the candle I lit earlier…your…your cologne.” 

The scents tickled your nose, the latter smell, Arthur’s cologne, a particularly welcoming scent. You mentioned often enough how much you liked it, and it was apparent it was no coincidence that he started wearing more of it. 

“And finally, what can you taste?” 

“Strawberry lip balm,” your nose wrinkled as you focused on the strange flavour. 

Arthur gave you a funny look, one that challenged your disgust. 

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it sounds.” 

“Let me check,” a cheeky grin befell your lover. 

You responded by playfully pushing his shoulder. In seconds, he had shot up from the ground, hands latching onto your forearms, pulling you up with him. A surprised gasp left your mouth, though it hardly wiped off Arthur’s evident joy. With a certain finesse, the man twirled you into him, his lips finding yourself sweetly. They moved against yours, a simple, yet mind-numbing act; an act in which completely transformed the last of your nerves into dazzling butterflies. 

When Arthur eventually pulled away, his stunning eyes searched yours for any traces of your panic. 

“You’re right, it’s not as good as it sounds,” he said, urging you to jokingly roll your eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better now,” you giggled, brushing your nose against his.

The smile was still yet to leave him when he gradually pulled away, arms leaving your waist, “wait here.”

You watched him skip to his record player - a beautiful antique thing. It was a delicate and cherished object, one adored by the man who was about to place a record into it. As the circular frame was hidden from your perspective, you were forced to wait, rendering the song a complete and utter mystery. His skilful movements eventually produced a scratch, and then, a song. 

It was a song you instantly recognised. 

_ **Wise men say only fools rush in** _

The realisation made you giggle while his twirling form made his way towards you. 

_ **But I can’t help falling in love with you** _

_ **Shall I stay?** _

You watched his shoulders sway with the tune, and the way his feet moved oh so gracefully - better than you could ever hope to coordinate.

_ **Would it be a sin?** _

_ **If I can’t help falling in love with you?** _

Then, suddenly, he was in front of you, hovering over you while an inviting hand extended. When you wordlessly accepted, you were suddenly in his arms again. 

_ **Like a river flows surely to the sea** _

_ **Darling so it goes** _

Some things are meant to be

His guiding hands found your waist, encouraging their soft sways. As music filled the apartment, your worries melted away. No longer conscious of the storm outside, which had yet to halt. No, you were transported into your own personal bliss, your head resting fondly on Arthur’s shoulder. Anxiety was no more than a distant memory, no longer gripping you in an iron chokehold; it had evanesced entirely. 

_ **Take my hand, take my whole life too** _

_ **For I can’t help falling in love with you** _

Before you knew it, the song neared its end, and Arthur’s frame had pulled away to glance at you.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,” he sang adoringly, finishing the lyrics with a lightness. His eyes then flickered towards your lips. 

Not missing a beat, you softly captured his in another kiss. Tilting your head to deepen the affection, your arms crossed behind his neck. Your giddiness went straight to your head, leaving you dizzy, while the swirls of infatuation bubbled from deep within.

When you finally pulled away, his head rested against your forehead. Nothing else mattered in that moment - not even Arthur’s drenched clothes. All that mattered was the way you felt in his arms.

_Just him._


End file.
